


Grounding

by systems



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11769063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/systems/pseuds/systems
Summary: "Are we there yet?""Stiles, if it wasn't funny two hundred miles ago, what makes you think it'd be funny now?"A few hours on the road and off of it, in the middle of the drive back to California.For background, the characters are aged up an unspecified amount and have been out banshee hunting in the Badlands, South Dakota.





	Grounding

**Author's Note:**

> For a friend, who asked: Can you write me some fluff with bed sharing (like before they're together) and maybe some soothing after a nightmare? I don't care who's who in that situation, but just some tender hurt/comfort would be awesome :) Thank you

Miles pass in a blur that's not helped by the scant changes in the scenery outside the passenger window. They've passed and been passed by that same ugly orange truck four times now. Stiles taps his fingers and wonders if it's worth another fight over the radio if it means some staticky songs to distract him from how utterly his Adderall is failing him right now.

"Are we there yet?" 

"Stiles, if it wasn't funny two hundred miles ago, what makes you think it'd be funny now?"

"I'm not being funny," Stiles protests. "I'm genuinely asking. Have we driven enough yet? Are we there yet?" He flops back against his seat as dramatically as he can manage. It doesn't do much to stop the building energy in his limbs and he goes back to tapping against his thighs.

"Fine," Derek says between gritted teeth. "We'll stop at the next city."

"No, no," Stiles says. "Don't stop on my account. I mean, I might be writing the next great American novel on my legs right now." 

"Your laptop is in the back," Derek points out. 

"Just for that," Stiles tells him, "I'm not naming any of the characters after you." 

 

They've crossed most of Wyoming when they finally decide to stop for the night. The drive back from the Badlands is nearly a full day, sunrise to sunrise, and after eight hours in the car, Stiles is both restless and exhausted. 

"I can't believe how boring this drive is."

Derek glances over. "This surprises you? We just did this drive. Remember? That's how we got there." 

"But on the way out it was interesting!" 

Derek scoffs. "It was interesting for you. You were reading the whole way." 

"Information on the Banshee is surprisingly scarce, okay? Half the sites I found were copied and pasted directly from one to the next. I had to get books!" That had been part of the trip, actually, and would take them off-course when they hit western Nevada and California. He'd borrowed books from three different universities, trying to gather as much information as he could. 

"Poor you." 

"Shut up. You know what I mean. Besides, I offered to drive. You're the one who insisted." 

"Call me crazy for not wanting someone with ADHD to try to drive the most boring road in the country." 

"Is it the most boring? Has that been established?"

"I don't know, Stiles." 

"I'm going to check. When we stop and have wifi again." 

"You think the motels out here are going to have free wifi?" 

"Of course." 

"We're in the middle of nowhere." 

Stiles choses to ignore that point. "It'll have to be an objective survey, obviously."

"Obviously," Derek says drily. 

"None of this 'We asked our readers' crap. It'll need metrics like miles at the same height, and miles without turning, and number of rest stops and towns along the road. And scenery. How many different geological features can be seen from the road or something." 

"Okay," Derek drags out the word. "How far to the nearest city?" 

"Five hundred miles," Stiles says, then, "Hey! No claws on the steering wheel!" 

"There's no way we're five hundred miles from civilization." 

"We're not, we're not," Stiles says placatingly. "There was a sign for Rock Springs not too far back. I think that place is big enough to have a motel or something. The highway ran through it for a couple miles on the way over." 

He thinks he's remembering the right town. He hopes so. By then he'd read through all the limited sources on the Banshee rumored to live in the Badlands National Park and found nothing but ghost stories about violin-playing skeletons and a wailing woman straight out of Irish myth. Nothing to explain the sudden increase in "animal attacks" that had been logged there. 

The feral werewolf roaming the hills had explained it, though. 

"How far is it?" Derek asked, dragging him back to the present. 

"I don't know," Stiles says. "It was the first one on the sign but I don't know how far it was or how long ago we passed it. Less than a hundred miles for sure." 

"For sure?" 

"Almost definitely."

"Almost." 

"Well, probably?" 

"Stiles." 

"If I had any signal, I'd check, Derek!" he snaps. 

Derek's jaw tenses until Stiles is pretty sure he's going to crack a tooth. "We're stopping for the night when we get there." 

 

Once they hit the city, they follow signs for a hotel and stop at the first one they find. Derek rolls his neck until it cracks after he parks. 

"Willing to let me drive tomorrow?" Stiles asks. 

Derek ignores him and heads inside. 

 

"I'm sorry, but we only have rooms with one double bed," the young woman at the front desk tells them after checking her computer. 

"It's fine," Derek says shortly. 

Stiles nods. "Better than sleeping in the car." He notices Derek flexing his fingers, claws extending and retracting. "Let's get you to bed, big guy. All that driving really tired you out." 

He ushers Derek away and waves to the front desk attendant. They find the room and Stiles pushes Derek into it. 

"Wait, our stuff," Derek mumbles, even as he sinks onto the edge of the bed.

"I'll go downstairs and grab the essentials." Stiles takes the car keys from Derek's jacket and makes sure he has the room key as he leaves, not trusting Derek to stay awake that long. 

Derek is still sitting where Stiles left him when he comes back. 

"Thank you," he says, taking the bag Stiles offers him. "You're not completely useless." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Just remember that when I wake you up in the middle of the night. I'm a kicker," he warns. He's only half teasing.

Yawning, Derek lurches off the bed and toward the bathroom. Stiles faceplants into the mattress and does his best not to fall asleep while he waits. 

 

-

 

Stiles does wake Derek in the middle of the night. He does kick, as promised, but he also punches out at nothing and cries softly before jerking awake and almost tumbling off the bed in his haste to get up and away. 

"Hey, hey." Derek catches Stiles by the back of his shirt, which unsteadies him enough that he pitches back onto the bed. He pulls Stiles in, mindful not to restrain his arms and to let him face out so he doesn't feel trapped. 

He doesn't want to make Stiles panic, but he is also too aware that the walls in this hotel are thin, and the rooms surrounding them are full. He puts one arm around Stiles's waist and rests his other hand over his heart, trying to ground him. "Hey, Stiles, it's me, it's Derek." 

"Derek?" Stiles replies shakily. 

"Yeah. We're at the hotel in Rock Springs, in Wyoming, remember? You had to go get my toothbrush because I sat down and didn't want to stand up again. We're on our way home," he says. He looks around the room for inspiration. "You left your shoes in the middle of the room. We plugged in our phones in the bathroom on your extension cord because the outlets in the room were loose." 

Stiles starts to nod, and at the same time the shaking lessens. He starts to take more even breaths. 

"You with me?" Derek asks. 

Stiles sniffs, but he nods again. 

"Okay. Should I let go?" 

He shakes his head and puts a hand over Derek's wrist. "Not yet." His heartbeat speeds up as he says it and Derek drops his head against Stiles's, feeling like he needed that little bit more contact. 

"Do you want to talk?" he offers. "What woke you up?" 

"Nightmare. And no." 

Derek nods, feeling the way the motion ruffles Stiles's hair. "Do you want me to talk?" he offers. 

Stiles sighs. "Yeah. Tell me what goes on in that werewolfy head of yours." Derek is silent for a beat too long, and Stiles says, "Nothing?" 

"Some of us aren't as loquacious as you," Derek says. 

"Big bad wolf using big fancy words, scary," Stiles teases and Derek laughs quietly. 

"Is that a big fancy word? How many letters make a word big and fancy, not just big or fancy?" 

"It's not the size that counts, but what you do with it," Stiles retorts, almost automatically, and Derek laughs out loud this time. 

"I like that you can make a dick joke out of anything," he admits, knowing full well he'll regret sharing that information tomorrow.

"Oh really?" Stiles hums. "Interesting."

"It's nice," Derek says. "Not the jokes. The jokes are terrible." 

"Hey," Stiles protests half-heartedly. 

"You help keep us grounded," Derek says. "You keep me grounded." 

Stiles leans back slightly. "Seems like you're doing the grounding right now." 

"Anchors go both ways," he says. He feels Stiles nod slightly against his shoulder. "My mom always said to think of an anchor like a rope that stretches between you and what anchors you. It should be like a tug of war that no one wins. You both give as much support as you get and keep each other in balance." 

Stiles lets out an exhale. "That only works if your anchor is a person, though. You don't give anger anything." 

"That's why it's a shitty anchor," Derek says. "It'll keep you going for a while, but not forever." 

Stiles hums his understanding. "S'why your anchor shifted." 

Derek is suddenly very conscious of how close he's holding Stiles, how comfortable he is, how comfortable Stiles seems. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "It didn't give me the same control as it used to. Are you, um. Are you okay now?" 

Stiles rubs his temple against Derek's cheek when he nods. "Really tired. All 'a sudden," he slurs. 

Derek eases them both down. He tries to pull away but Stiles keeps hold on the hand over his heart. It takes some maneuvering but soon he's comfortable enough to slip into sleep, his heartbeat slowing to match Stiles's slow and steady pace. 

 

They check out late in the morning, the consequence of getting in late and having blackout curtains. Derek feels much better than he had when they'd arrived. Loading their few belongings into the car, he realizes that he's never slept this well on the road. He's trying his best not to think about it when Stiles starts talking about breakfast. 

"I'm starving," Stiles says. "I want hash browns. And eggs. And coffee." 

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Decaf. I want you to sleep in the car." 

"What? Why?" Stiles stares, incredulous. "Is this about me waking you up? Because we still slept until like ten, so I don't see why--"

Derek snorts. "You're annoying when you're bored." 

"Shut up. You'd be lost without me." 

Derek rolls his eyes skyward. God help him, he thinks he might be.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like, visit me on tumblr [here.](http://gfdisterek.tumblr.com)
> 
> The title is taken from the grounding technique that Derek uses here, which is sometimes a helpful thing when dealing with an anxiety attack.


End file.
